Sounds of Thunder
by darthvair65
Summary: At the request of his order a preacher attempts to navigate the murky moral and social grounds of a mining town dominated by greed and lust. After forming an unlikely partnership with a local bartender and gossipmonger, Father Riku is drawn into a world of murderers and thieves - but as he becomes more involved will he heed the warning signs - or become one of them?
1. Part 1: The Players Assemble

**Title: **Sounds of Thunder

**Pairing: **Sora/Riku, Axel/Roxas, Axel/Larxene

**Rating: **R

**Wordcount**: 9000

**Betas: **alovelysilence

**Warnings**: random historical inaccuracies, character death, violence, language, sex, drug references, a whole smattering of other things

**A/N: **Loosely based on the historical town of Deadwood, South Dakota and the HBO series "Deadwood," as well as a myriad of things including: my summer job and homesteading research, following parts of the Oregon Trail, and playing the classic Oregon Train game growing up.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Kingdom Hearts or any of the characters within.

**Summary: **At the request of his order a preacher attempts to navigate the murky moral and social grounds of a town dominated by greed and lust. After forming an unlikely partnership with a local bartender and gossipmonger, Father Riku is drawn into a world of murderers and thieves as he tries to save the town from those very sins. As he becomes more involved, will he heed the sound of thunder?

Part 1

The Players Assemble

One of the least charming indications that a town is going to be less than savory is when one can smell it before one sees it.

Such was the case with Casper's Gulch – Riku didn't even have to open the stagecoach doors to realize just how much work and despair lay ahead of him. The odors of urine, excrement, and unwashed bodies drifted uphill in a light breeze, slithering into Riku's cocoon of safety and causing him to gag slightly. Instantly he tugged the embroidered cotton handkerchief from the pocket of his sturdy, plain waistcoat and held it over his nose and mouth, face twisting in disgust at the first whiff of the town he was about to enter. Riku had his work cut out for him if he was going to save this Godforsaken town and bring it back to grace.

As he was traveling, Riku had been alternating between stage and train, as they were available, for several days in the hopes of arriving in Casper's Gulch as soon as possible. Not more than a month ago he'd sat with one of the Catholic bishops, discussing where they would be sending their most lively and energetic preachers to spread the Word of God, and Riku had taken the assignment of Casper's Gulch thinking it would be a challenge to strengthen his faith and his character. It was renowned across the states as a city of sin and debauchery, full of gambling halls, murderous lechers, and prostitutes plying their trade on every corner, and Riku found himself charged with saving this city of devils and vagrants.

He'd been studying the maps and reports from earlier missionaries during his travels, memorizing details about the various institutions and persons of interest his predecessors had encountered; it seemed that there were numerous institutions of a highly questionable kind, but one in particular had stood out to the last missionary before he'd been dragged into the desert by an unbroken stallion. The Heart's Desire functioned primarily as a saloon, and the man tending bar had apparently employed several prostitutes in the upper levels of the establishment – and the comments were rather vague, but his predecessor seemed to have been subjected to numerous uncomfortable situations and disagreeable comments. Riku wondered what on earth he might have been talking about.

As the stagecoach jostled its way down the hill towards Casper's Gulch, Riku opened up his well-worn Bible and began to reread Leviticus from the beginning.

Xxx

Casper's Gulch was a town in its infancy; barely twenty years had passed since its establishment, and not much had changed since its inception. Miners had rushed west into the unexplored frontier following the discovery of gold, steady streams of hard men coursing across the prairie and into the hills in search of the precious metal. One lucky miner happened upon a riverbed studded with gold, and it was thereafter known as Casper's Gulch. The town boomed, growing almost too fast for its own good with stores and pleasure houses popping up within months. Miners flocked, and soon even more women came to join the first few, arriving nearly every week by stage in lush silk gowns, lace, and ornately-decorated feather hats to join the others occupying the whorehouses in entertaining the starved miners. Two missionaries had been sent to the town before him, and both had been chased out of Casper's Gulch within months of their arrival.

Riku hoped to last a little longer than the past two, if only to save the souls of the men and women who would listen.

Xxx

Casper's Gulch was truly a city of Sodom; the prostitutes lined the streets even in the broad light of day, entertaining their customers sometimes right in the alleyways much to Riku's abject horror. Within five minutes of his arrival Riku had witnessed two outright murders, and the local lawmen – if they even existed – were nowhere to be seen.

Once his quarters in a small hotel were set up, Riku peered out the tiny glass windows at the street below, watching the gamblers and drunks amble down the dirt alleys with bottles of rum in hand. It was pitiful to watch.

Xxx

The arrival of the preacher in the town was met with little recognition or care as far as the lawless men and women of Casper's Gulch were concerned. Most saw him as a stuffy, nosy brat of a preacher, too young to truly know what he was talking about in the first place. High class and refined, he stood out too much as a total outsider for any locals to listen to.

Even the most accomplished and polished citizens did not seem so impressed with the preacher –even so religious a woman as the cattle baron's wife seemed not to care.

The town whispered, though. The young man tending bar at the Heart's Desire seemed to be the most adept at encouraging whispers; he knew most of the town gossip and often spoke rumors freely.

"What d'ye think?" glossy, red-stained lips asked, edges curving up in a sly, secretive smile. "Preacher's got an interesting look 'bout him."

"Agreed," the bartender said with an almost identical grin, pouring the young woman sitting across from him another glass of bourbon, amber liquid sloshing gently into the glass tumbler. "He does seem to be a most interesting fellow." A second glass – for himself – poured, the bottle was returned to its place on shelf. "A wager for how long it'll take for him to seek us out?"

"I'll give 'em another half a week. I don't think he'll last," the young woman said confidently.

"If he goes around preachin' hellfire and brimstone, he definitely won't make it," the bartender agreed. "But those sorts are lots of fun to play with," he said, his grin widening. "Play with words and they start choking on theirs."

"You've an evil mind, Sora," the young woman said, taking a sip of her bourbon.

"You know me all too well," Sora muttered, relishing the taste of bourbon in his mouth. "Can always ask your sister what might be in store, y'know."

Deep blue eyes narrowed and plump lips pursed together in thought. "Might see about it. She likes you better though, she's more likely to tell you what she sees in the cards."

Sora shrugged noncommittally. "Maybe. You know I like a bit of a surprise, though."

"As you please."

Sora had known his companion for months now, and though many assumed they were romantically attached, the rumor could not be further from the truth. His companion was a free woman who'd travelled across the plains with her sister and who chose prostitution as her source of income freely; Sora's only part in it was that he rented her a rather spacious apartment above the saloon, aside from the fact that he found her to be rather pleasurable social company and an amicable drinking partner. She was a beautiful woman, of medium height with rich auburn hair that fell below her shoulder blades, and deep, penetrating blue eyes that stole men's hearts as they bought their time with her. Her fine clothing, jewelry, and porcelain skin were sights to behold in their backwater town; they distinguished her from some of the others, enough that Sora suspected she'd been married to a man of some means before coming here. No one could have afforded such jewels or frocks on their own. But she'd never confirmed or denied his theories, so Sora presumed he'd probably never know her true story.

Contrary to most of the young men who'd made their way to Casper's Gulch, Sora had come for what he viewed to be a much more profitable venture than mucking around in a stream searching for gold: manning a hotel or a saloon. That was five years ago though, and after working two years around the clock for a nasty brothel owner cleaning rooms, Sora had saved up enough money to buy his own place and make something of himself. He didn't have much interest in alcohol, gambling, or whores, so that made his saving much easier. Even now some of the other players in town tended to underestimate him, mostly for his size. Though he was pretty tall, he was rather slight and didn't seem the fighting type – but that was a mistake to assume.

Sora glanced over his companion's shoulder, meeting the gaze of the gold prospector who'd just burst through the doors before the other man's eyes went straight to the slender form of the woman leaning against Sora's bar. The prospector's eyes were alight with excitement and lust as they raked over her, his hand trembling while holding something between his fingers.

"Well I'll be damned," Sora chuckled. "I think you have a visitor, Kairi – and it would appear he's gotten lucky recently, if the gold in his hand is anything to judge."

"How lucky?" Kairi countered, narrowing her eyes and wiggling her brows discretely.

"Like the size of my thumb lucky," Sora whispered in return.

"Ugly?"

"His face is lopsided and he had smallpox as a kid," Sora reported, at which point Kairi nodded.

"The soiled dove, then," Kairi chuckled, a playful smirk on her painted lips as she schooled herself into character, plotting how to steal her suitor's dignity and more of his money, if she could.

"Have fun," he grinned before Kairi turned around to face her customer, engrossed in the whores' game of pulling as much out of drunken prospectors as possible.

They would eat very well tonight.

xxx

It didn't take long for Riku to find the lawmen who were supposed to be minding Casper's Gulch – but when he did, he wasn't impressed. Seifer appeared to less of a sheriff and more like a teenage bully who'd been given a badge for his efforts; Rai, Seifer's deputy, was a hulking man made of pure muscular tissue, but had little in the way of brains, and the quiet woman in the back who was there 'to give last rites' when needed did not ease his anxiety at all.

"There's lots of crazy fucks in this town," Seifer said smartly, leaning back in his chair to display the numerous pistols and knives he carried; Riku supposed the young man playing sheriff must have gotten the scar that stretched from eyebrow to cheekbone in a knife scuffle some years ago. "You're never gonna get the big bad guys on your own, don't try it. But I've been keepin' an eye on the guys behind the Heart's Desire saloon, the barkeep seems to know a lot about what's happenin' in this town," he whispered conspiratorially, "including some of the illegal shit. I know he's in on somethin', I just know it. We've even got a bet on that he knows somethin' about the cattle rancher's death."

Riku made a mental note; the Heart's Desire saloon had been listed among the suspicious establishments in Casper's Gulch by his predecessor. He gathered from the man's notes that the last missionary had been inappropriately harassed by someone there, though the gold baron in charge of that part of the town seemed to be an upstanding gentleman according to Father Remington. He would definitely have to pay Xemnas Fairchild and his wife a visit, along with the mourning cattle baron's wife in the near future.

"What kind of illegal," Riku swallowed and stepped around the curse, "things?"

"He rents one of the apartments above the saloon to a whore," Seifer whispered salaciously. "They seem pretty friendly. Not sure if he's her pimp or what, but it's a bit strange to run a whorehouse of one, right?"

"Perhaps she is his sister," Riku offered, clearing his throat. The suggestion sent Seifer and Rai into fits of boisterous laughter, with the sheriff leaning over the table and practically gasping with mirth. "Did I say something amusing?"

"There is no way in hell that whore's his sister," Seifer laughed hysterically. "I can guarantee it."

"One, er, prostitute living above a saloon does not seem like a den of villainy."

Seifer snorted again. "Listen to you – 'den of villainy,' making it sound like a pit of sin. You're in the pit, boy. That saloon's just got an eye for the smuggling and robbing, that's all. Got his ears to the ground and all that so he can hear the whispers. Start there, see where it takes you."

Riku sighed. It seemed his destination was set. "Thank you for your time, gentlemen – ma'am," he said, nodding his head slightly in the direction of the silent woman towards the back before making his exit. Seifer was right; the town was a pit of sin, and it would take time and patience for Riku to cleanse the whole place of its multitude of temptations.

But first: the Heart's Desire saloon.

Xxx

The second Sora heard the sharp, high-pitched scream he put the bottle of brandy down and pulled the six-shooter from its holster at his hip, looking up the wooden stairs sharply. The crack of a gunshot rang out, followed closely by enraged, masculine shouting and banging as the prospector lurched out of the room he'd been occupying with Kairi. The thumping got louder as the man stumbled noisily down the hall and tripped on the first wooden stair, rolling all the way down to the landing at the foot of the steps. With a heavy thud, god-awful screaming and cursing filled the saloon's atmosphere as he clutched his upper arm, which was blooming blood. As Sora moved around the bar to see to the man he looked up the stairs; seeing Kairi in a disheveled and furious state, her beautiful dress ripped and her lip cut but wielding a tiny handgun as she made her way down the stairs, Sora's expression turned murderous. He stalked over to the squalling man and pressed the heel of his boot into the man's injured arm.

"You alright, Kairi?" Sora asked, his furious gaze never leaving the cowering man's face.

The redhead nodded, pocketing the small gun she'd just used on her wayward customer. "I'm fine."

"Alright, listen up you disgusting piece of shit," Sora seethed, scowling and pressing the heel of his boot against the man's arm even harder. "You even so much as lay another finger on her and I will personally cut your balls off and throw you to the pigs – d'you understand me, fucker?" he demanded menacingly.

"S-she shot me!"

"Yeah, and I'll shoot you too if you don't say 'yes sir, I understand,'" Sora growled, showing the gun he held to his captive. "But the lady on the stairs went easy on you; I'll put the bullet right between your eyes myself."

"Y-y-yes sir, I understand," the man yelped, eyes bugging out of his head.

"Good, now say 'pretty please Mr. Freeman, don't kill me.'"

"For God's sake, let the man up," a low voice spoke plaintively, making Sora jump and look towards the sound. His head swiveled over to the saloon doors, where a young man in a plain black suit stood – the white collar marking him as the preacher everyone had been talking about, and Sora had to take pause. The man was an imposing figure, standing more than a head taller than Sora and bearing a strong, muscular build. His hair was long and silvery, pulled back in a ponytail with strands framing his strong jaw and almond-shaped green eyes.

_Well I'll be damned twice_, Sora thought to himself, an unconscious smile unfurling almost instantly. "Your Holiness!" he exclaimed, spreading his arms out in a welcoming gesture, his foot still firmly on his captive's wounded arm. "So glad you could join us."

"I'm not the Pope," the preacher said patiently. "Now let the man up, I won't be having anyone shot while I'm around." The tone in his voice told Sora the man would give no quarter in that matter, though what he intended to do about it if he did happen to witness anything was something Sora certainly questioned.

"Good luck with that," Sora sniggered, releasing his hostage and pushing the man away with his boot. "Get on out of here, you shitty excuse for a human being," he snarled as the dirtbag hightailed it out of there, grasping his wounded arm. A satisfied grin snaked its way onto Sora's face as he watched the other man disappear out the door. If he ever came into his saloon again, he wouldn't know what hit him.

"Was that really necessary?" the preacher asked, tone bordering on incredulity. "To cause more pain when he'd already been shot?

"Perhaps not," Sora shrugged, his smile twisting on his face, "but it sure as hell made me feel better. If you'll excuse me a minute." Sora turned from the preacher and headed up the stairs towards Kairi; she'd taken a seat at the top of the stairs, leaning against the wall while she dabbed at her eye daintily. Tears had already started to ruin her makeup somewhat, but no amount of makeup would cover the cut in the corner of her lip or the developing bruise on her cheek. The sleeve of her dress was torn as well; that would need to be mended by a professional. "Are you alright?" he asked, tilting her head up gently with fingers beneath her chin, looking at her critically.

Kairi nodded. "I'm fine. Told him he wasn't allowed to get rough, and he didn't listen."

"Did you give him a bit more warning than a gunshot?"

She gave him a withering look. "I kneed him in the balls first," Kairi said flatly. "He got the message – he just didn't like it."

"Have Annie run you a bath and relax for a bit, alright?" he suggested, helping Kairi to her feet. "I'll have her bring you some of that brandy you like." She nodded and headed up the stairs towards her room, whispering a discrete "have fun" to his ear before disappearing.

"Is the lady alright?" the preacher asked as Sora walked down the stairs. "She seemed distressed."

"Course she's distressed," Sora snorted, going behind the bar to pour himself a shot of whiskey. "Not every day that Kairi has to shoot a paying customer because he doesn't play by the rules."

"You mean she-" the preacher started, eyes widening, "she's the one who shot that fellow?"

"She most certainly did," Sora confirmed proudly, downing the shot of whiskey.

"Has she been saved?"

"Nope, and I don't think she wants to be," Sora laughed a bit, pouring himself another drink. Preaching types were fun to play with, but sometimes the alcohol numbed Sora's annoyance towards their obnoxious tendencies and made it all the more fun. "If you're looking to find people who want to be saved, I think you're in the wrong place, preacher."

"Accepting Jesus Christ as your personal savior will absolve your sins from this life and lead you into everlasting light when it ends," the preacher said in a rush, standing taller and clutching the Bible in his hands like his life depended on it.

"So, is defending oneself from an attacker considered a sin?"

"Not necessarily," the preacher swallowed uncomfortably. "But her profession-"

"Is her own business," Sora interrupted him. "What's your name, preacher?"

The other man seemed startled by his sudden change of subject. In truth, Sora thought the look of surprise was a good one for him. "Ah. It's Riku. Father Riku Dalton-Artenberry."

"That's quite a mouthful," Sora commented, smiling and committing the name to memory. "Father Riku, then. Sora Freeman," he introduced himself, extending his hand across the bar. Riku walked over hesitantly and clasped his hand in greeting. Sora took that moment to assess the man in front of him, from the strength in his handshake to the tentative smile on his lips. To be a recognized priest when he was so young, Sora credited the other man with an impressive force of will to make his way through whatever school they made the religious folk go to before they went legit on their own at such a young age. He must have been considerably focused on his faith, possessing a single-minded determination in his goals, if Sora's intuitions were correct – and they usually were. As Sora assessed him, he could sense Riku doing the exact same thing; the older man's eyes were narrowed as they searched his face, matching his strong grip in the handshake. He even found it a bit difficult to let go of the other man's hand, holding it a bit longer than was customary or necessary.

When they did finally release each other's hands, Riku was staring at him with a most inscrutable expression. "Have a seat," Sora invited, extending his arm towards the stool just opposite of him. Riku took it, though he seemed almost suspicious of the offer. "I'm gonna be honest with you, preacher – I expected you'd be coming in at some point, but is there something in particular you're looking for around here?"

"What do you know about the illegal goings-on in the town?" Riku asked seriously, getting right down to business.

Sora paused, brows furrowed and just barely keeping his mouth from quirking into a smirk. "Care to be a little more specific?"

"Are you serious?"

"As the grave," Sora quipped back at him.

"I have been charged with saving this town from the pits of hell by tackling the sin and debauchery running rampant throughout it," Riku hissed, sitting up stiffly in the stool. "And according to the local sheriff, you are someone who knows a great deal about what is going on in this town so I would appreciate your help in this."

Sora sighed and put his glass to the side, then leaned down on his elbows to look at Riku squarely. "You can't save those that don't want to be saved," he muttered sagely.

"Then tell me what's going on so I can figure out who might," Riku retorted, staring at him levelly.

Sora grinned. "Well you're a feisty one," he snickered, leaning over the bar's counter and folding his hands. "I kinda like that. Why bother going out there when you can stay right here with me? I'm willing to be saved, after all."

"You," Riku faltered, blinking rapidly. "What?"

"I'll tell you everything you wanna know," Sora continued unabashedly, practically purring the words. "And some things I bet you've never heard before, preacher."

"I'm not entirely sure I like your tone," Riku responded, shying away from Sora ever so slightly as the other man leaned forward.

"I'm offering myself up to be saved," Sora said heedlessly.

"I think you are being facetious with me."

"No fucking shit," Sora snorted.

"Are you mocking me then, Mr. Freeman?"

Sora considered this carefully. "Maybe a little."

After a moment of outright staring, Riku sighed. "Is there anything of note that you can offer me, Mr. Freeman?"

"A blowjob?"

Riku left without another word, scowling as he stormed out of the establishment, muttering under his breath. His processor had been right about the man.

Xxx

Mrs. Strife, nee, Lockhart, was a proud and indomitable woman if Riku's judgment of character was correct. Statuesque and well-dressed, she seemed the epitome of the wife of a well-to-do businessman, despite the fact that Mr. Cloud Strife, her beloved husband, was dead and buried in the cemetery just outside of Casper's Gulch. So recent was her husband's death that Ms. Strife was still wearing black frocks in mourning, which only seemed to highlight her already pale complexion and dark, calculating eyes. Her pitch-black hair was pulled into an elaborate bun, with wisps curling around the onyx gems set in her ears; she was wearing a long black lace gown with a high collar that came up beneath her chin, a salmon-pink and ivory cameo affixed to her throat. Mrs. Strife was staring out the window, teacup in hand as she surveyed the miners and prospectors roaming the street below; the cameo bobbed slightly as she swallowed hard, closing her eyes and looking down at the watery tea in hand.

Riku sat a few feet away, holding his own teacup carefully as he watched her intently. "Are you absolutely sure, Mrs. Strife?"

"Yes," she answered immediately. "I am absolutely certain. There is no doubt." The tension in the room following her assertion was quite palpable, and Riku sought out something to distract himself visibly from the cloud of darkness Mrs. Strife was emitting. He glanced around the room, eyeing the display of military swords in her former husband's library. A finely wrought oak desk sat on a plush carpet at the very center of the room, and large bookcases lined the walls, save for the one displaying the swords for all to marvel at. Mrs. Strife had explained that her husband had been a military man in his youth – a captain in the Union cavalry during the clash between North and South, and the swords were his pride and joy. One was said to be that of a general, whose presence had come from Captain Strife personally removing it to remember his victory.

Captain Strife had clearly spared no expense in furnishing the house just off the main street in Casper's Gulch that his wife now occupied solely; they seemed to have all of the modern amenities available by catalogue or special order, despite the fact that the Captain only operated a cattle herding business. Riku wondered what the owner of the primary gold mine's house looked like; it was probably some sort of palace where everything was wrought with gold.

"Do you have evidence?"

Mrs. Strife cleared her throat. "Unfortunately, no. The culprits were too cunning to leave any such thing."

"Then how can you be so certain?"

"My husband was in perfect health," Mrs. Strife spoke over the last half of Riku's sentence. "He was a strong, healthy man with no medical ailments whatsoever who enjoyed morning and afternoon constitutionals to maintain his strong heart."

"Healthy men have died suddenly before."

"Not with their bones crushed," she answered thickly. "The doctor said his lung had been punctured, though whether it had been by a rib or a sword he could not tell."

"I am sorry for your loss, Mrs. Strife."

"I know it was someone in this camp," she continued doggedly. "They murdered my husband, and now that I hold the title to his land and cattle herds I have received visits from . . . unscrupulous sorts in the town attempting to wrench the deeds from my hands. They must have hoped Cloud had not included me in his affairs."

"Did he say anything strange to you before he died?" Riku queried. It would seem the widow's suspicions regarding her husband's death were well-founded thus far, but he wasn't sure what he, a man of the cloth and gospel, could do about it.

"He was wary. Nervous," Mrs. Strife recalled. "My husband was not the type to scare easily – he'd seen death and worse all around him on the battlefield. But he was on edge enough to send for our nephew in upstate New York. He has a great financial mind, so he will come to manage the business on its surface."

"Only on the surface?"

Mrs. Strife gave him a bit of a smirk. "I grew up on a cattle farm, Father - I am more than capable of managing a herd. I may not look the part, but I was roping and branding cattle by the age of ten alongside my father. If need be, I will join my herders in the field."

"When will the boy be arriving?"

"Given good conditions, within the month. He had some affairs to wrap up before he could leave, but God willing he will be here soon. Then he will be able to take more active interest in the property."

"If the lands and cattle are legally yours, then there is nothing to fear."

"To say that they are legally mine means very little out here, Father. You have seen this camp. It is lawless and primitive. I will not stand behind laws only recognized in the states to uphold my husband's claim."

"Then how will you maintain it until your nephew arrives?"

Tifa Strife glanced at Riku over her shoulder, a grim smile on her face. "With gunpowder and a hot branding iron if necessary. "

Xxx

Soon enough, Riku got a taste of what Casper's Gulch was truly like in all its lawlessness. A fire swept through the block, destroying a hardware store and the small hotel Riku had been lodging in. As he stood out in the shit-strewn road, staring at the still-smoldering building, Riku realized that he could count on one hand the number of personal items and clothing he had rescued from the flames before the building collapsed: his Bible, a stack of letters yet unsent, a bottle of sacramental wine, and a worn felt hat all escaped with him, along with the clothes on his back and the shoes on his feet.

He'd been in Casper's Gulch for barely two weeks and he'd already lost his lodgings, apparently due to a drunkard letting his still-lit pipe fall amongst some unfinished timbers before he fell asleep. Riku heard several miners mention that the man had perished in the blaze as well. He blinked, trying to think of what to do.

The sound of feet squelching in mud alerted him to the presence of another, standing a few feet away but not approaching – just watching, for the moment. When Riku turned to survey his companion, he found Sora standing off to his side; the other man was covered in soot and sweat after helping the fire brigade put out the blaze. He was even patched up in a few places from where the fire had licked his flesh, but it was his larger-than-life blue eyes that bored into him from his soot-caked skin.

"I'm sorry about the hotel," Sora ventured finally. When Riku didn't answer him, he heard Sora huff and start again. "I have an extra room, if you want it. The rooms are pretty spacious, everything's clean and all. If you want it, anyway."

"Are you serious?" Riku asked skeptically.

"If it's about Kairi and her customers, she's on the other side of the hall," Sora said hastily, as if prematurely smoothing over his anxieties. As it was, Riku wasn't sure what his superiors would say about him living above a bar and gambling house and down the hall from a whore. He turned away, stroking his chin in thought. "I'm sorry if you got a bad impression of me the last time we met," Sora tried again, crossing his arms over his chest. "I'll give you a discount – hundred percent off the first week, how about that? Cheaper rate for the preacher putting up with us heathens?"

"You don't have to do that," Riku muttered. "I don't want to impose-"

"The room's been empty for a while, you're not imposing," Sora huffed again. "Do you want it or not?"

Riku paused, considering the other man's offer carefully. It was a charitable offer to be sure, but Mr. Freeman's intentions were less than clear; the last time they'd spoken, Sora had made a lewd suggestion that gave Riku strange dreams for days, leaving him with less trust in the other man than he'd hoped.

"Alright. I'll take it."

And this was how Riku came to live at the Heart's Desire saloon. It was a bit of a strange transition, moving from living in a quiet, secluded hotel room away from the main streets to living above a rowdy saloon in the heart of the camp and down the hall from a prostitute. Half the time he walked down the stairs he walked right into one of Kairi's patrons as she brought them up to her rooms. Smells of bodily odors frequently drifted up towards his rooms and the sound of shattering liquor bottles often startled him awake at night, but otherwise Sora had told him the truth: his rooms were clean and comfortable, and it was a large enough apartment that he didn't feel contained in his workspace. That was really all he needed.

Sora's rooms were in the middle, right between Riku's and Kairi's. He didn't sleep often, or much at all from what Riku observed; he was keeping an eye on the bar and managing the place the majority of the time, often long into the night and starting around midday. The saloon opened every day, even the Lord's Day, without question – despite the fact that Riku had moved into his apartment above the business, Sora was bound and determined not to adjust his operating hours for the sake of worship that did not take place in the camp. That was their first stalemate.

Their second stalemate came upon them when Riku suggested that he hold religious meetings in the Heart's Desire – which Sora vehemently opposed. His saloon was not a place of worship, no sir. No matter what Riku said, Sora would not back down. It bothered him; he'd never met anyone so combative and yet accommodating, but Sora's argumentative nature put him off like no one else ever had. Sora was friendly enough, and mysteriously hadn't asked him for even his discounted rent quite yet – but when Riku tried to suggest any changes that might bring religion into the place Sora shut down and argued fiercely to maintain his semblance of independence from religion.

Their arguments even took place in different rooms; one morning Sora was late getting out of his room so Riku questioned him from outside his door. This continued for a little while, escalating to the point where they were shouting at each other, with Riku rubbing the bridge of his nose agitatedly at Sora's snarky and obnoxious responses. Riku wasn't sure what he said, but he felt harsh saying it, and suddenly the door to Sora's room slammed open, revealing a seething young man on the other side - a seething, mostly naked young man.

Riku swallowed thickly and forced his eyes up to meet Sora's narrowed gaze as he shouted, studiously ignoring his naked and damp chest, indicative of a recent and rare bath. He was wearing pants, luckily, but in is anger and need to respond to Riku's mutual rage he'd come out of his room without his shirt or waistcoat.

The argument carried on, but that wasn't what bothered Riku. It was the fact that he had to remind himself to look up, to meet Sora's gaze rather than survey his body. He had to force himself not to study his toned chest and stomach, to not linger on the sharpness of his collar bone and the smooth tendons in his neck as he shouted. Riku was completely baffled, and becoming more and more rattled with every second and word that passed between them. Ever since he was a child, Riku could remember forcing his thoughts towards much more acceptable processes; he'd schooled his mind to block out unacceptable thoughts over the course of college and divinity school. Riku remembered learning early and very quickly what was proper for a young man, and whether it was by the rod or a harsh backlash, he came to realize his thoughts were impure – and he learned to snuff those thoughts out.

But now, with some of those thoughts filtering back into his mind, Riku lashed out angrily. "For fuck's sake," he hissed loudly, snarling at the shorter brunet. Sora startled, eyes widening at Riku's sudden use of the curse. Even after he spoke it, the word tasted strange on his lips. "Put a fucking shirt on, for Christ's sake." Riku shoved the door to Sora's room right in the brunet's face, slamming it shut before twisting around and stalking back to his own room.

He slammed the door and stared at the wood grain, his jaw set and his teeth grinding together as he tried to force his body and mind back under control after that outburst. Above all other things Riku despised the times when things went beyond his control. It was despicable really, when a preacher could not maintain control of his own thoughts during a conversation, could not maintain his semblance of self control enough to not shout obscenities during a quarrel. Riku let his forehead drop to the hard wood of the door, smacking it in frustration as he breathed deeply, slowly regaining control of himself.

The thought of apologizing to Sora entered his mind a few moments later, once he'd sufficiently calmed down enough to realize that he'd treated his host unfairly. Acting out due to his internal frustrations was in no way proper.

When he did eventually get around to apologizing to Sora, he expected the brunet to rub his face in his complete lack of manners or his idiocy or any number of things. What he didn't expect was for Sora to shrug it off and apologize for agitating him. Then he said something Riku wasn't expecting at all: "Friends fight, don't they?"

Riku was positively stunned. Were they friends? He'd only been in Casper's Gulch for a few weeks, and during that time he and Sora had only shared tense conversations and the occasional argument over beliefs and whatnot – and yet Sora claimed they were friends? He was a bit bewildered by it. Sora had to be one of the strangest friends he'd ever come across, but if that was what he wanted to call their relationship, Riku wasn't going to correct him.

"You wanna know what friends also do?" Sora prompted, prodding him in the bicep. "They forgive each other. We're good, right?"

After a brief moment spent digesting those words, Riku nodded. "Yes, we're good." He breathed a little sigh of relief after that, hoping there would be no reference to the last fight between them again.

"Perfect. Now come on down to the tables, I'll get you some poker chips – on me."

"Wh-what? Why?" Riku sputtered as he was tugged by the arm down towards the bar and dealing tables.

"You said 'fuck' to me – twice," Sora explained simply. "I feel like I owe you for damaging your moral character or something."

"But I don't know how to play poker."

Sora turned and gave him a maniacal grin. "Then I'll show you."

Xxx

Thirty miles away, five people sat around a blazing campfire in the dead of night, passing around bottles of whiskey and laughing uproariously. Five horses were tied to a tree nearby, saddles splayed out across a tree branch while their owners grazed lazily. The bottles were passed again, and a burly man sitting on the far right of a fallen log chuckled in a low, sinister tone. He had long black hair wrapped up in braids and pulled back into a tail, with thick black sideburns along the sides of his jaw. He, like most of the others, was dressed in dirty buckskins for long rides on the open prairie and a dirt-stained broadcloth shirt, though he opted out of a waistcoat.

"I can't believe you sent Demyx down there by himself," he muttered, shaking his head as he took a long drink of whiskey. "Fool's going to fuck up."

"Not our problem," the tall, gangly man with bright vermillion hair to his left said, snickering as he sipped his own liquor. He was dressed a little more flamboyantly, with a dark green shirt, black waistcoat that looked brand new, and a gold watch chain glimmering in the light of the fire. As the fire crackled, it cast dramatic shadows across his face, accentuating his bright green eyes, high cheekbones, and the sharp tattoos right beneath his eyes. "Doesn't take more than one man to kill a brat. Sending all six of us out to kill a kid just seems plain sick, ya know? Demyx can take care of it."

"My confidence in him is not exactly the greatest, especially in matters such as this," a young man with long, dark blue hair hanging in his face muttered. The fire cast artful shadows across his face from the locks as he spoke, boredom in his voice. "He's not exactly the best assassin."

"Of course not, I am," the redhead crowed proudly, sniggering into his whiskey. "But he'll get the job done."

"You better hope he does," a sharp female voice spoke up, the woman's blue eyes shining like daggers in the firelight. "Otherwise the boss'll start to ask why the job wasn't done right, and I am not associating myself with your damaged reputation, asshole." She was just as rowdy as the rest of them and would have passed for a smaller man but for the way her tight waistcoat revealed the swell of her breasts.

"And here I thought our love was eternal," the redhead scoffed, vaguely mocking. "You wound me."

"If this is going to turn into a spat, perhaps we should leave," the young man with dark blue hair stage-whispered to the silent, hulking man beside him. "Theirs is a coupling you do not want to be a voyeur for."

The hulking man barely lifted a thick eyebrow. "And why is that?"

"Because you're not sure if you should be disgusted or call for a medic," the blue-haired man answered wryly.

"We ought to be more careful," the sole woman muttered slyly, leaning in towards the redhead. "Zexion's been spying on us."

"I was under the impression you liked it that way, Larxene," the redhead practically purred, the corners of his lips pulling up into a leering smirk.

"Zexion's a prude. No fun."

"I am still here, you know."

"So were we. And you are a prude, get over it."

Zexion rolled his eyes.

"So who is this kid the boss wants dead?" the man with the long black hair and sideburns asked, passing the bottle of whiskey he'd been drinking from along. "Axel, you're the one the boss chose to lead this one. Who is he? I only heard him say the name once."

"He's the kid that Strife bastard called in," Axel answered, shrugging and wrapping an arm possessively around his lover's shoulders. "His nephew or something. It's got something to do with the claim on grazing lands, I never really worked it out."

"So if he doesn't show, the widow'll be forced out of the claim?"

"That's the idea, but I wouldn't necessarily count on it," Axel said shrewdly, pushing a few locks of red hair back from his face. "The widow's a sharp one. I'm willing to bet she'll put up one hell of a fight."

"That's right, I forgot she almost shot you," the man with the long black hair snorted.

Axel grumbled darkly. "Shut it, Xaldin."

The sound of galloping hooves distracted the five from their discussion; the all fell silent, quietly assessing where the sound was coming from.

"Sounds like Demyx is back," Zexion eventually concluded, squinting his eyes to see in the moonlight.

"That you, Dem?" Axel called loudly, receiving an affirmative shout in response. Moments later the long, powerful legs of a brown Quarterhorse came into the light, slowing to a walk; it was followed by the sounds of heavy breathing and agitated snorting from the horse. "How'd it go?"

The man still sitting astride the horse, Demyx, looked pale and fearful. His blond hair was loose and windswept, as he'd been riding through the night. He didn't even bother trying to get off the horse, as it was still moving about agitatedly beneath him. "Um. Well."

Five hopeful expressions fell simultaneously. "Spit it out you sonofabitch," Axel snapped impatiently. "Did you kill the brat?" he demanded, his voice ringing in the night.

Demyx sputtered and shrugged dramatically, his arms flapping helplessly as he tried to form words that wouldn't end up with him getting shot or maimed. In the end, there was no way out. "I couldn't find him," he muttered, frustration flooding his voice.

The people around the fire erupted into outraged shouts and screaming at the blond cowering on the horse; the Quarterhorse shied away as they shouted, making Demyx panic even more. Axel stormed forward, grabbing the bridle to steady the horse and dragging Demyx down off the animal violently. He took hold of the front of the blond man's shirt and pulled him up, lifting Demyx off the ground. "Hey hey hey, cut it out, man!" Demyx yelped, scrabbling at Axel's wrists. "I told you you were sending the wrong guy!"

"Shut it," Axel snarled, "now what in all the fucking hells happened?"

"The caravan was already under attack," Demyx choked, his legs dangling. "I looked for ages, but I couldn't find the kid!"

"Are you _absolutely, positively_ sure," Axel demanded menacingly, snarling in Demyx's face, "that he wasn't drowned or scalped or something?"

"No," Demyx gasped. "No, there was no one that looked like 'im. I looked, Axel, I looked, I _swear_, please please put me down! Please don't hurt me, Ax, I did my best, you gotta believe me."

Axel dropped him abruptly, releasing him and letting him fall to a heap in the dry prairie grass. He stalked away, running his fingers through his hair agitatedly as his long legs took him in a circular pattern. Finally he stopped and tilted his head back to the stars and screamed at the top of his lungs, "_Fuck!"_

"Boss isn't gonna like this," Larxene muttered, her expression twisted as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"If the boy pulled a runner before Demyx got there, there's nothing to be done," Xaldin muttered. "Besides – the river crossing's fifty miles from the nearest settlement, and the little bastard has no idea where the fuck he is or where to go. Even if he did grab a horse, there's no telling whether he'll make it anywhere close, and if he does – we'll know about it."

"Then I guess it's time to head back into town," Larxene sighed, going over and pulling on Axel's arm. "Let's go."

Xxx

When Riku had been in Casper's Gulch for nearly a month, he stopped to assess the progress he'd made in the camp; they weren't many, but Riku was satisfied given the way the camp was when he arrived. There appeared – to Riku, anyway – to be fewer murders in the streets, and the miners did not jeer at him when he went out to talk to them about the gospel. They seemed to just accept his presence, which was an incredible feat given their somewhat violent reaction to him in the first place. Sora seemed to be helping that, as much as he could anyway; he was openly friendly with Riku, and that friendliness seemed to spread bit by bit to the other miners - especially when Sora pulled Riku into a poker game with a group of them. That definitely seemed to amuse them.

Things changed though, when three of the Strife widow's cattle herders rode into town at a breakneck speed, shouting for the town doctor. Riku had been out on an errand getting food supplies for Sora and happened to see the riders arrive; one of them – a woman, he was surprised to see – was carrying the limp body of a young man in her arms. Riku raised his hand to offer space in his apartment for him, but Sora caught their eyes first and waved them over frantically. He watched as the young man's body was carefully passed down to one of the cowboys who'd already dismounted his horse, and they all disappeared into the Heart's Desire saloon. Riku grabbed the satchel of food he'd gathered from the stands and jogged over to the saloon to see what was going on.

Tidus, a friend of Sora's and occasional bartender at the saloon, directed him up to the little spare room in Sora's apartment; the door was open, and Riku went in without a second thought. Sora's room was cluttered, not unlike the way he imagined it would be. There were clothes and mementos scattered all about, with half-empty bottles of liquor on different shelves amongst worn, tattered books and catalogues from the last few years. Worn posters had been tacked up on the walls too – they were faded now, but Riku could tell they had once been colorful depictions of Buffalo Bill's Wild West Show. He followed the voices through Sora's bedroom and into the spare room, where Sora, Kairi, and two of the widow's cowboys were crowded around a body on the bed.

"Riku," Sora called, his head popping up from the swarm of bodies, beckoning him over. "You know how to help people, right? The doctor's not here yet, can you help?"

Riku nodded instantly and maneuvered his way around the people surrounding the figure on the bed towards the young man's head; he leaned down and pressed two fingers below the man's jaw, searching for a pulse. It was there, slower than it should have been for a young man in his early twenties – if he aged him right – but still, he was definitely still fighting. Riku gauged him to be around Sora's height, but he looked smaller in comparison, and did not appear to be in good health at all: his skin was red and feverish, and his wiry frame appeared to have been drawn thin from lack of water, food, or both. Lank and dirty blond hair stuck out in all directions, and even unconscious the man's mouth was set in a frown.

"Where did you find him?" he asked hastily, noticing a tear in the young man's shirt; upon further inspection Riku realized he was indeed injured and pushed his shirt sleeve up to reveal the wound. It was a relatively minor laceration, but his bicep was covered in the dried blood.

"The middle of the prairie," the cowgirl responded, tossing her hat onto the table beside the bed. "We were driving the cattle out to graze a few miles out and there he was, layin' out on the grass with his horse off a ways, grazing. He didn't respond, so we grabbed him and brought him back here."

"We need water," Riku announced, "to wash that wound out and get him cooled down bit by bit. Can you get us some?" he asked, looking over to Sora.

"If it's what you need, yeah," Sora nodded confidently, rising immediately. Within seconds he was gone.

"Kairi, do you know where Sora keeps spare rags for mopping up and all? They'd need to be clean."

"I know what you mean. I've got some," Kairi whispered, her voice rushed. She stood, smoothing out her silk skirts before sweeping out of the room in search of the rags he requested.

"Gonna send me out to do something or are you out of orders?" the cowgirl asked, a hint of waspishness in her voice.

"What's your name?" Riku asked, checking the man over for other injuries.

"Olette," she answered.

"I'm not trying to give out orders, I'm just trying to make sure this man doesn't die – maybe we'll even find out who he is."

"I think we know," Olette said somberly.

Riku's gaze jerked across the bed towards her, eyeing her freckled cheeks, deep brown eyes, and long brown braid draped across her shoulder. He'd never met her before, but Riku could almost sense the weariness in her eyes; they must have ridden all night. "Who do you think he is?"

"Strife's nephew," Olette answered promptly, amid commotion from Sora and Kairi returning at the same time.

"Are you sure?" Riku balked; could it actually be him?

"He's the spitting image of our old boss," Olette's companion answered this time, crossing his arms over his chest. "I'd definitely wager that's him."

Sora put the bowl of fresh water he'd retrieved down on the table next to Riku and went to peer at something out the dusty window; Kairi handed over the rags, which Riku dipped in the water to wash off the young man's injury and put a cool cloth over his forehead and eyes.

"Perhaps we should be telling Ms. Strife, then," Riku suggested. "She'd look after him."

"I don't mean to kill the idea so fast," Sora muttered, the tone in his voice catching Riku's total attention. "But we've got a problem. Bad news just rode back into town, and I'm willing to bet every dollar I own they're looking for him."

Riku stood abruptly and moved to stand beside Sora, peering out of the glass and onto the street below. A small cadre of riders were just getting off their horses, all in black except for the shock of blond, red, and black that he presumed was their hair. A sick feeling developed in the pit of his stomach as he watched them disperse, most of them heading in the direction of a saloon and brothel down the street.

"Trouble?"

"I know every soul in this God-forsaken camp," Sora responded through gritted teeth. "And those guys are more trouble than you even know." Swallowing thickly, Sora continued, "He stays. If we send him out there, he'll be dead before you even realize a shot's been fired."

"And what about the widow? What do we tell her?"

Sora looked torn. "Let's make sure he survives the night first, alright? Then we'll work from there."

TBC


	2. Part 2: Dead Man's Hand

**Title: **Sounds of Thunder

**Pairing: **Sora/Riku, Axel/Roxas, Axel/Larxene

**Rating: **R

**Wordcount**: 10,500

**Betas: **alovelysilence

**Warnings**: random historical inaccuracies, character death, violence, language, sex, drug references, a whole smattering of other things. Oh, and violence.

**A/N: **Loosely based on the historical town of Deadwood, South Dakota and the HBO series "Deadwood," as well as a myriad of things including: my summer job and homesteading research, following parts of the Oregon Trail, and playing the classic Oregon Trail game growing up. The title is from a quote by Wild Bill Hickok in "Deadwood;" his fate is a bit of a clue here.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Kingdom Hearts or any of the characters within.

**Summary: **At the request of his order a preacher attempts to navigate the murky moral and social grounds of a mining town dominated by greed and lust. After forming an unlikely partnership with a local bartender and gossipmonger, Father Riku is drawn into a world of murderers and thieves - but as he becomes more involved will he heed the warning signs - or become one of them?

Part 2

Dead Man's Hand

In dreams, he is a child.

He is five years old, and the world seems like such a frightening and frighteningly huge place. His mother deems the streets of Philadelphia far too dangerous for her precious son, and keeps him inside with her to work on his numbers and letters while she continues working on her needlepoint. He can barely remember what she looks like, but he imagines she's blonde and smiling gently at him.

He is nine and terrified; for all of his life the outside world seemed too dangerous to venture out in, and the arrival of his uncle – tall, strong, and quietly imposing – brings a hunting trip in the wilderness with his father. The idea of stalking deer and bear is completely alien to him, but his father insists he go with them. He falls in love with the feel of grass against his fingertips, with the hushed sounds of the forest surrounding them, with the birds and their curious calls above their heads. When they take down a huge buck, a thrill goes through his body like he's never experienced before. His father takes the magnificent antlers and displays them in the drawing room, and his uncle prepares venison steaks for them that night. The outside world is not so imposing now.

But it is not his world. He's eleven, and his uncle has gone west. His father sends him to boarding school instead to learn things his mother could not teach him at home, like the history of the world and the origins of their great nation, higher maths, and the geography of the Americas and Europe. Numbers and dates and the etiquette of proper gentlemen fills his life, though beneath the surface the desire for the freedom of the hunt remains, if buried quite a bit. He likes the idea of the free and open prairie, like his uncle wrote about in his letters, but he never speaks about his daydreams. They are his and his alone.

_Roxas?_

In dreams, he's falling. He knows this is a dream though, because he's never felt this sensation before – it's freefalling, and the only thing he's ever fallen from is a horse. It's utterly strange, like his stomach is being pulled up through his chest as he falls.

The voice is warm and comforting, even though he'd never heard it before. It soothed his worries, until he was no longer worried about the freefall.

_Are you alright, Roxas?_

Wait, how did she know his name? That was strange. He hadn't even introduced himself.

_My name is Kairi, can you hear me?_

Kairi, he thought to himself. That's a pretty name. He tried to tell her that, but the words only came out as a groan.

_Holy – Roxas, are you awake? Can you understand me? Nod if you can._

Nod? Ok. Roxas tilted his head back and then down slowly; this was so very strange, knowing that he'd told his body to move but being unable to feel it at all. There were more voices now, all clamoring and shouting around him, and Roxas couldn't make them out well enough to distinguish their words. Even Kairi's started to sound far away to him . . .

When his eyes opened, Roxas winced and squeezed them back shut again. All he could see was blinding, excruciating light; it burned his eyes, and even when he shut them he could still see the remnants of that light behind his eyelids. Roxas brought his hand up to his eyes and squeezed the bridge of his nose, groaning low in his throat.

"Are you awake, then?" a soft, gentle voice asked. It had the same timbre as Kairi's, but it sounded more melodious than hers.

"I think so," Roxas groaned, slowly blinking his eyes open once again. The light became less excruciating with each fluttering of his eyelashes, until he could see more and more of the room; it was small and dark, and lit by a single gas lantern beside the bed. Roxas followed the light, his gaze taking in the small table to the side of his bed and the equally small girl seated at it, slowly turning cards over onto the surface from the deck. She was slight and pale, with porcelain skin and white-blond hair that practically glowed in the dim light; she was wearing a long white nightgown and a pale blue Chinese silk dressing gown over it, but her eyes remained focused on her cards, even as they spoke. "Where am I?"

"You're in Casper's Gulch," the girl answered simply, serenely. "Can you open your eyes? They'll want to know."

"Uh, they're open now. Can't you tell?"

"No," she answered, placing another card on the table. "I'm blind."

"Oh," Roxas frowned, feeling stupid. He swallowed dryly, licking his lips. "Can I have some water? Please?"

The girl nodded, and handed him a glass of lukewarm water. Roxas took the glass and quenched his thirst, dripping some water down his jaw and neck. He coughed, choking on some of the water before clearing his throat and looking over and the blond girl once again. "What's your name?"

"Namine," she responded, placing another card down. "And you're Roxas."

"How'd you know my name?" Roxas asked, thoroughly confused. "Was there another girl here before you?"

"Kairi went to get some sleep, if you're thinking of her," Namine supplied. "The ones who found you said they thought that was your name. They recognized you, anyway."

"Oh. Who was it?"

"Cattle herders," Namine said simply. "I didn't hear their names."

Roxas lifted his head up and looked around, a sick feeling settling in his stomach. "I'm not at my uncle's place, am I?"

"No," she muttered, causing Roxas to jerk his head towards her; Namine was staring sightlessly at the cards before her. She blinked and swallowed, then repeated the word, as if amending a mistake in her wording. "You're not at your uncle's. The plan was to bring you there, but . . . something has come up."

"What has?" Roxas demanded, staring at her squarely even though he knew she couldn't see him. "Why am I not at my uncle's house? Why am I being kept here?"

"For your own safety," Namine hissed, her lip curling in response to his tone. "There are people in the town, people who would kill you if they knew you were here."

"So basically you're going to hold me captive," Roxas snapped.

"It's better than letting you get killed in the street," a foreign voice said dryly. Roxas' gaze snapped up, finding a young man standing in the doorway; the brunet was yawning widely, his thick hair drooping and eyes half-closed in exhaustion. He was already in the process of undressing, unbuttoning his waistcoat in the midst of another yawn.

"Who're you?" Roxas asked after a moment of confusion.

"My name is Sora," the other man answered, rubbing his eyes. "And it's way too early in the morning, so I suggest you two either go back to sleep or be a bit quieter. I'm tired, I have to be back tending the bar later on, and my room is just on the other side of this door. If you two insist on arguing I'll have to go bother the preacher or Kairi, and I don't think either of them will be happy about it. Can we discuss this in the morning?"

Roxas frowned deeply at him, then glanced out the window; it was dark, with a faint light beginning to grow that indicated the sunrise. "Who's trying to kill me?" he asked, regardless.

"Someone with a lot of money and a lot of guns at his beck and call," Sora sighed. "They want your aunt and uncle's claims. I know these people, they're capable of anything. Do you mind if I explain more later? I'd really like to get some sleep."

Roxas scowled and frowned at him. "Fine," he muttered, a little on the sullen side. "We'll talk in the morning."

Sora put his palms together like he was praying and closed his eyes, whispering a grateful "Thank you" before looking over at Namine. "Nam, you can head back now. I'm sure he'll be fine."

Namine pursed her lips. "I keep getting the same cards," she said quietly, her brow furrowing as she traced the tip of her finger over the cards she'd laid out on the table. "Same ones, over and over again."

"You know what it means?" Sora yawned again, while all Roxas could think was, 'If she's blind, how does she know?'

Namine frowned. "It's an odd combination. They don't make sense all together."

"Maybe they'll be different in the morning," Sora offered, while Namine collected and stacked the cards again. She rose, and made her way towards the door Sora was standing in.

"I doubt it," she whispered as she moved past him.

When she was gone, Roxas caught Sora's critical gaze. "I'm glad you're awake. You had us worried for a little while."

"Can't imagine how worried my aunt and uncle must be," Roxas responded wryly.

"Those who found you have told your aunt where you are. That's the best we could do. Now I suggest you get some rest, we'll try to answer all your questions in the morning." With that Sora stepped back and closed the door behind him, leaving Roxas frustrated and stymied. In the end, he fell back into a fretful sleep marred by dreams of his childhood.

Xxx

Sora and Kairi were conversing quietly at the bar of the Heart's Desire when the doors slammed open, jarring their attention away from the topic of the young man sleeping like the dead upstairs. A tall, lanky man with flaming red hair tumbling out the back of his black, wide-brimmed hat walked in, the spurs on his boots clinking brightly against the rough wood floor. Sora steeled his expression immediately; Axel, he remembered vividly, was one of _them_, though he'd had to deal with him directly before and the redhead didn't seem to be too terrible a person.

Kairi put on her most alluring grin first, and pushed herself away from the bar, sauntering towards the taller man and meeting him halfway across the bar. "You look stressed, handsome," she purred, tilting her head up and smiling with red painted lips. "Can I help you with that?"

"No sweetheart, I really don't think you can," Axel quipped in return, his tone mockingly sorrowful. With that he reached his arm out and pushed her out of his path – not roughly, but enough that she got the idea and hastened to get out of his way.

"Now, now, there's no reason to treat the lady so roughly," Sora said, the parental tone in his voice clear and apparent as he set his jaw, frowning slightly.

"We both know she's no lady," Axel grinned sharply, displaying dirty teeth as he approached the bar and dragged a stool noisily over for him to sit on. "Gin, please."

Sora pulled out the bottle of clear liquor and began to pour some into a glass for the redhead. "So what brings you guys back into town?" he asked carefully.

"Business as usual," Axel answered, downing the shot of gin as soon as Sora was finished pouring it. "We're looking for somebody. He's got something the bossman wants."

"That so," Sora responded conversationally. The Thirteen, as the residents of Casper's Gulch knew them, were always 'looking' for someone, and once they found the person they were looking for no one ever saw them again. "Can't say I've seen anyone new around here."

"And the rumor mill? Come on, Sora, I know you've got your ears to the ground on all the good stuff. Roxas Strife hasn't shown his face around here, has he?"

"That name isn't ringing any of my bells. The only new thing 'round here is the preacher who's taken up residence in the other apartment upstairs – that and the saloon across the road has got a new piano."

"I'm not interested in a damn piano," Axel growled. "I'm looking for a blond-haired, blue-eyed little cunt who was supposed to arrive last night by stagecoach, but he didn't show. Now the boss man is angry, and I've got to find him before the boss decides to take my head instead. So I'm gonna ask you one more time," Axel hissed as he drew two identical pistols and placed them gently on the polished surface of Sora's bar, the unspoken threat clear.

Sora frowned inwardly, his gaze narrowing slightly at Axel's words and actions. He didn't threaten easily though, and Axel's threat seemed rather empty to him. Of course he wouldn't tell Sora the whole truth, but he wondered if Roxas _did _have something Axel's boss wanted – something more than the key to his aunt's cattle herd. But what could Roxas have? His stowaway had only recently arrived in the territory, and there was nothing to suggest that Cloud Strife had sent his nephew anything more than a letter before he'd started his journey. Maybe he'd have to talk to Roxas about this later. "Look, Ax, I'll keep my eyes and ears open. If I hear any whispers about where the Strife kid is hiding out, I'll tell you," Sora said, mustering as much conviction as possible to convince Axel.

"That's the kinda thing I like to hear," Axel nearly purred, apparently pleased with the outcome. The pistols went back into their holsters, and the vaguely perverted grin slid back onto his face. "You know where to find me, then?"

"If memory serves, you guys always hide out in the Crimson Oblivion and smoke all of Mr. Chan's opium," Sora answered smartly.

Axel responded by clicking his tongue, winking at Sora, and pointing at him simultaneously, wordlessly conveying a 'you got it' with minimal effort. "We'll be there. Get me some news, Sora, the boss wants to get his hands on the kid as soon as possible." With that Axel's long legs took him out the doors and out into the dry, dusty roads of Casper's Gulch.

Sora sighed in relief and relaxed, but his reprieve didn't last long; just as Kairi returned to the bar and clasped a hand over one of his balled-up fists, Sora heard heavy, slow footsteps on the staircase.

"What sort of game are you playing?" Riku's voice challenged him quietly. "He's one of the ones looking for the boy upstairs, what was he doing here?"

Breathing out slowly through his nose, Sora's gaze swiveled to meet Riku's intense glare. "You already know the answer to that, preacher," he responded. "When you first came in here, you said you'd been told that I had connections, or something. I'd have to be involved to get the type of information I do."

Riku stalked over to the bar, placing his palms on the smooth wood and glaring directly at the brunet. "And what exactly is your involvement, Sora?"

Sora held his gaze bravely for a moment, but cast his gaze aside and looked away. "It's none of your business," he uttered softly.

The preacher scowled at him and distanced himself from the bar after a bit of consideration. "I see. I just want to make sure you're not going to sell the boy out, Mr. Freeman," Riku responded coolly, referring to him in the more formal standard.

"I wouldn't have taken him in if I was going to sell him out," Sora retorted, offended by the insinuation. "I'm not like that." When Riku didn't seem to be buying it in the least, Sora tried a different tactic. "You're the man of God here, can't you have a little bit of faith in me?"

Rather than answer him, Riku headed for the door and didn't return until later in the evening, when the Heart's Desire was rather packed and Sora was taking gold nuggets for payment.

Xxx

Even though Riku had grown used to living above the bar in the Heart's Desire, it still unsettled him when he heard fighting break out. Usually it quieted down after a few minutes, and it was usually punctuated by Sora shouting forcefully until the fight dissipated. In the morning he'd usually find Sora and Tidus sweeping up broken glass or scrubbing a bloodstain from the floorboards.

But the moment he woke up in the middle of the night to continued cries and shouts followed by the crack of a gun, Riku knew this was different. He practically leapt out of bed and pulled on a pair of pants and shoes hastily, flying out the door and down the stairs, his argument with Sora earlier in the day all but forgotten. All hell had already broken loose, and he immediately picked out Sora in the crowd; he had a drunk in a chokehold, dragging the man away from the fray and dislodging the small gun he had in his hand. The fight was still going in full force, with five other miners beating on another who was curled up on the floor; the shouting was raucous and violent, and the flying fists spurred Riku into action. He descended the steps and grabbed one of the drunks by the shoulder and tried to pull him away, back from the poor man he was attacking.

The drunken miner turned on Riku faster than a prairie rattlesnake, sending a bony, dirty set of knuckles into Riku's temple with such force that the young preacher reeled, stumbling dizzily to the floor. His assailant pursued, grabbing hold of loose, sleep-mussed silver strands to hold him in place while the miner savagely punched Riku in the side. He yelped, the pain at the first blow breaking through the cloud of disorientation, and clawed at the man's hand gripped tightly in his hair, gritting his teeth forcefully as he continued to struggle. Riku felt the miner's fist strike his side several times before he mustered the strength and coordination to bring a knee up and strike hard and fast at his attacker's groin. The miner gasped and made a weak, shocked noise as both hands moved to cup his genitals, releasing Riku in the process. Not a second later, Sora appeared behind the miner and slammed the wooden butt of a rifle against the back of the man's head, stunning him enough that he dropped on the spot.

Riku's vision swam for the next ten minutes, but he clearly recalled Sora and Tidus dragging the more or less unconscious bodies out of the bar and into the street; though his vision was still hazy, he knew it was Sora lifting him off the floor with one of Riku's arms draped over his shoulders. There were stairs, too, that forced him to more or less find his footing or risk bringing Sora down with him. Despite his throbbing temple, unfocused gaze, and uncoordinated limbs Sora managed to guide them up the stairs and down the hall to Riku's rooms without any accidents, and Riku sighed with relief when the brunet dropped him onto the mattress to sit.

Suddenly Sora's face was right in front of his, the brunet encompassing every bit of his field of vision; there was a worried, fretful look about the other man's expression, which Riku had the capacity to make note of. He looked rather disheveled too, with several buttons on his shirt torn and blood from a cut on his lip blooming where the drops fell on his shirt. There was a chain around his neck that Riku hadn't seen before, dangling between the cloth and his flesh. Riku wondered what was at the end of the chain.

"He got you pretty hard, didn't he?" Sora commented lightly, brushing long silver strands of hair out of the way to examine Riku's throbbing temple and startling him out of his muddled thought process.

Riku hissed at the brunet when light, calloused fingers touched the edge of a bleeding cut, sending stinging tendrils of pain through him. "Fuckers," he cursed under his breath, making Sora snort in agreement.

"I'll need to clean that up," Sora intoned, his eyes moving critically across Riku's form. "Does your side hurt?"

"Like hell," he responded miserably. "But it'll just bruise, I think."

"We'll keep an eye on it. But for now," Sora grimaced, brandishing a small glass bottle of clear liquid at him, "we have to clean that cut. Don't kick me," he warned, giving Riku a matching glare as he pulled the cork out of the bottle with a small pop.

The smell of the alcohol hit Riku like a train at full speed, the stench making him feel dizzy and nauseated simultaneously. Whatever that was, it was strong and concentrated; Riku did not want to know why Sora had that on hand in his bedroom. He barely had time to contemplate much beyond that, because the brunet took advantage of his reaction to pour some of the alcohol out onto an old cotton shirt and press it across Riku's brow. The burning sensation the movement caused had Riku hissing his discomfort and annoyance, but Sora held fast and refused to let him bolt.

"Ow," Riku complained, squeezing his eyes shut and pursing his lips in a deep frown.

"Oh shut up," Sora scolded him lightly, "it could have been a hell of a lot worse."

"Don't patronize me," Riku sighed wearily as his companion pulled the alcohol-drenched cloth away from the open cut, dabbing at the edges to make sure the wound was clean. "I don't like being punched in the head very much."

"I think that's a good sign," Sora chuckled, tilting Riku's chin up so he could get a better look at the developing bruises and cut. "If you did like it I'd have to assume you were too far gone to save."

_And here I thought I was the one who was supposed to be saving you_, Riku thought blithely, rolling his eyes. Rather than voice those words however, Riku chose instead to focus on the last part of that comment. "Do you end up dealing with people getting injured a lot?"

Sora shrugged, corking the small bottle of alcohol. "Not usually," he finally revealed, his voice thoughtful. "Mostly if people are being stupid and get themselves knocked around I give Doc a call. I've had to patch my bartenders and Kairi up on occasion – but since she bought herself a nice piece her patrons stay in line pretty well."

"She's used it on people before," Riku stated, frowning slightly.

"When it's necessary, yeah," the brunet confirmed, unrolling a bit of gauze and breaking a length of the cloth with his teeth. "Girl's gotta protect herself somehow, you know?" Sora asked, his wide, deep blue eyes searching Riku's face for disapproval.

A memory flashed in his mind's eye, of Sora's face when he slammed the butt of the gun against the back of Riku's attacker's head – the look of barely-contained rage, something feral in his shockingly blue gaze. He hadn't hesitated, not even for a second, before attacking. "Have you killed people before?"

Sora sighed, standing and leaning over Riku just slightly as he wrapped the gauze around the preacher's head, securing a bandage over the cut. "Would it make you feel better if I said no?"

"Not if I knew you were lying."

"I gather the whole 'ignorance is bliss' thing doesn't appeal to you," Sora chuckled, sitting back down in the chair and leveling Riku with an honest, open expression. "Yes. I have. Three in self-defense, one by accident before I arrived here. Could have hit number five tonight, if the guy wailing on you had done serious damage."

"I don't expect you to kill on my account," Riku muttered soberly, averting his gaze.

"Well, I'll try not to. You're the one who said you wouldn't let anyone get shot while you were around, right?" Sora asked, cracking a brilliant smile as he laughed to himself.

"I think I did say that," Riku mused.

"You did," Sora responded immediately, as if it were as certain as the sun rising in the East. Then he hesitated, as if he was considering saying something just on the tip of his tongue. "And. Uh. I'm sorry about earlier. I'm really not going to sell the kid out, that's honestly not the plan. And my involvement is . . . indirect."

"What on earth is that supposed to mean?"

Sora shifted uneasily. "They have something of mine," he admitted. "My thought process is if I play nicely with them, they'll have no reason to say no when I finally ask for it. Make sense?"

Riku nodded after a bit. "Just be careful. No shooting while I'm around," he snickered.

Sora rose slowly, exhaustion filtering through every muscle and bone in his body, and it was then that Riku remembered how late it actually was. "You should get some rest. You're going to have one hell of a headache in the morning."

Riku nodded and groaned, shifting his body back onto the mattress lengthwise. "I have a bad feeling you're right," he groaned, closing his eyes and ignoring the light chuckles belonging to a certain brunet. Even long after Sora left Riku lay awake in drowsy thought, turning the brunet's words over in his mind again and again until chills slithered down his spine. He hoped it never came to that.

Xxx

Roxas, as it turned out, slept like the dead until the crack of a gunshot startled him straight out of sleep. He'd actually woken up a few times to nibble on the bread and drink some water that had been left on the bedside table and to piss, but other than that he'd slept rather well and attributed it to his recovery process. When he heard the gun go off inside the building though, Roxas panicked. He froze, and couldn't bring himself to move for five long minutes after when it seemed there would be no more shots fired; the sounds had muffled, though he could here heavy footsteps making their way up the stairs after a bit. He recognized one of the voices but couldn't place it in his mind, so he forced himself up and out of bed so he could watch for someone to come into the other room.

At long last, he heard the floorboards creak in protest as someone shuffled closer and opened up the door to the room he was peering into; the new occupant was a young man with wild brown hair who moved with a distinct weariness, sighing deeply and rubbing his eyes. _What was his name again?_

"Sora?" Roxas croaked, his voice protesting from disuse.

It was almost comical, the way the brunet practically jumped out of his skin when he heard his name being uttered from a corner of the room he often forgot about. He recovered after a moment, laughing weakly to himself at his own reaction. "Everything alright, Roxas?"

The blond shuffled between the door and the frame. "I heard a gunshot."

Sora shrugged. "It was just a minor brawl, that's all. Nothing to do with you."

Roxas averted his eyes. "I see. Why am I not with my aunt and uncle?"

"You already know why," Sora mumbled, scratching the back of his head and ruffling his wild hair. "It's for your own safety. We know your stage was attacked, and we know the people behind it are in town now. No one here is going to sell you out to them."

"So something's already happened, hasn't it?" Roxas asked more assertively. "They've come to look for me?"

Sora nodded solemnly in response.

"Look, is there any way for me to get a message to my uncle? He'd know what to do, he could help!"

"Fuck," Sora hissed under his breath, setting his jaw in a firm line. He didn't want to tell him this. "No, he can't."

"Of course he could," Roxas countered confidently. "My uncle is a really powerful man, he could help us with this."

"No, Roxas, he can't," Sora shook his head. "Your uncle died in an accident. Some of us are pretty sure it wasn't an accident though, which means more danger for you."

Roxas was dumbstruck. His favorite uncle was dead? He remembered going out hunting with the man as a child, and he could not comprehend the thought of him being gone forever. It seemed ludicrous. "You're lying," Roxas accused, his voice breaking slightly. "He's not."

"I'm sorry," was all Sora whispered in return. "I didn't want to tell you like this, but I didn't want to get your hopes up, either. I'll have someone take a message to your aunt though, if you want."

Roxas just stared past him, unseeing, his expression and shoulders dropping with each passing second. Sora wanted to go and try to comfort him but the tension in the blond's body betrayed a need to hit something, and after having to engage in a brawl not twenty minutes ago that definitely left him with bruised ribs Sora was very much disinclined to try to give him said hug. He was not, after all, suicidal. Roxas turned around slowly and retreated back into the small room he called his own, closing the door and effectively locking Sora out.

As he tried to sleep, Sora did his best to block out the sound of the secluded blond punching the walls in his tiny room into the wee hours of the morning.

Xxx

The days following Axel's visit and the brawl moved quickly for most of the occupants of the Heart's Desire, save for Roxas. While Sora, Riku and Kairi all carried out other tasks or duties whether they were in the saloon or around the camp, Roxas found himself playing cards with the strange blonde girl who'd introduced herself as Namine. She didn't mind that he wasn't really in the mood to talk very much; that seemed to suit her just fine. When Roxas grew tired of playing, he watched her perform a reading, as she called it.

"How do you know what cards are which?" he asked at long last, curious about her constant preoccupation.

Namine lifted one of the cards and showed it to him. It looked like a normal playing card, like the ones Sora used in poker games. This particular one was a two of diamonds; the red numerals and symbols stood out perfectly on the cardstock to him. But someone had written something in the upper right hand corner a tiny '2 D.' "Kairi marked them for me. That's how I know."

"What does a 'reading' do?" he muttered skeptically.

"It tells me about the person and their fortunes. It's pretty reliable when you don't abuse it."

"Could you tell my fortune?"

Namine smiled softly. "Fortunes work best when I have a strong connection to the person. I have only known you for a few days, Roxas."

"Who do you do fortunes for, then?"

"Kairi, when she asks. Tidus sometimes, and Sora too. I do his the most."

Roxas frowned at that. "That's strange. Sora doesn't really seem the superstitious type."

Namine chuckled to herself, laying down another card. "He really isn't. He says the cards don't speak to him the way they do to me." She paused, dropping the volume of her voice. "Sora doesn't see the same things I do."

"What do you see?" Roxas prompted, sensing the darker tone in her voice.

"Something bad is coming," she answered vaguely. "And Sora, for some reason, seems to be the target."

"How do you know it's coming for Sora?"

Namine tapped a card on the table – the king of hearts. "That's Sora's card. No matter how I shuffle this deck, whenever I do a reading for him this card is the first I draw. It is . . . worrisome."

Roxas raised his eyebrows; he was by no means a superstitious person himself, but he wasn't above being able to recognize when things ceased to be coincidences and became something more. Though Roxas considered it more eerie than anything, this certainly had ventured beyond the realm of coincidence if Namine was telling the whole truth. "And . . . all the other cards you draw for him, they're always bad?"

"Certain combinations are. It's difficult to explain. I know what all the cards mean and what it means when certain ones are together and all of that, but it's not by any stretch perfect."

"Have you said anything to him about the cards?"

Namine shook her head, her long blonde braid swaying with the movement. "He's heard it once, I won't trouble him with it again."

Roxas hummed as he considered that, and decided it was Sora's business rather than his. The other man could certainly take care of himself. "I know you can't read my fortune, but what can you tell about me?"

The blonde woman grinned at the challenge and collected the cards, shuffling them over and over again. She fanned them out on the table and told him to draw a card. Roxas pulled one from the stack, and handed it to her; Namine laid down his chosen card, the ace of diamonds, at the center of her table and began to draw more, relaying what each card revealed about him.

Xxx

The last few days had seen a change in Riku, as well; he'd found himself laying awake at night turning Sora's words over in his mind again and again, and his sleep afterwards was always plagued by phantom sensations and words whispered into his ear. The feel of Sora's hands on him, light and completely nonsexual when they were checking the cut on his temple or the bruise on his side, became something entirely different when he blew out the candle beside his bed and closed his eyes. His body, he decided angrily, was betraying him in the most frustrating way and there was nothing he could do that would stop the dreams. No matter what Riku did they returned continuously, and each morning he woke with sweat-damp skin and disgust sinking in his stomach.

A bit desperate to get out of the Heart's Desire several nights of strange, rather erotic dreams, Riku devoted himself to duties that promised to cleanse his spirit and mind of their impurities – namely, caring for the sick alongside the lone doctor in Casper's Gulch. He found the man's house relatively easily, and the doctor put him to work almost immediately bandaging the hand of a miner whose fingers had just been amputated. An accident down by the river had crushed two of them, leaving them useless and unfixable even for a doctor.

The doctor himself was a bit of a strange character, but even the miners and crooks of Casper's Gulch admired the man for his wisdom and worldly knowledge. He was tall, and walked with a bit of a hunch in his back, his blond hair slicked back away from his face. It seemed he wore the red scarf presently around his neck throughout the seasons, as it looked a bit worn and threadbare. As for the man's policies, it didn't particularly matter to the man whether you were a law-abiding citizen or a murderous wretch, he'd treat anyone all the same – but it might just take him a little bit longer to get to you if you'd robbed several stage coaches recently or something.

"You arrived here about two months ago, is that correct?" the doctor asked conversationally as he was taking a young pregnant woman's vitals.

"That's correct, sir."

"Please, boy, just call me Ansem. 'Sir' doesn't quite fit me."

"Alright, s – Ansem."

"Where are you staying at present?"

"I was staying at the Gem Hotel, but currently I'm renting a room at the Heart's Desire."

Ansem paused in his examination and twisted slightly to give Riku a highly disapproving glare. "Why would a man of your religious character opt to stay in such a place? The owner is not exactly the most ethical of men."

"Mr. Freeman was kind enough to offer me a place to stay after the Gem Hotel burned to the ground," Riku countered politely. They had not yet even built up a report and the doctor, however well-meaning, was passing judgments on his chosen inn; the small part of Riku that remained rebellious despite his strict Catholic training bristled. "And I am pretty sure it would be a long process to find men of impeccable ethics in this camp."

"That may be so, but it is not my wish for you to fall victim to his charms. A nice young man though he might be, he also has ways to make a man of faith question it."

Riku frowned, thinking back to his first interaction with Sora and how the other man had offered him sexual favors in the middle of their conversation. It wasn't even an insinuation, it was outright and blatant and Sora's lack of propriety had thrown him for a complete loop immediately. But since then, Sora had not made any advances of the sort Ansem was speaking of; his mannerisms around Riku had almost totally changed, and their exchanges were for the most part pleasant and friendly. 'Falling victim to his charms' seemed to be the last thing Riku would be inclined to do. "Sora is a good friend," Riku responded confidently. "I have faith in him. He's not a perfect human being, but I don't think you're giving him enough credit."

Ansem shrugged. "It's not my business, really. But I will say this to you: you are always welcome here, Father. I have several rooms that are quite comfortable, and that would not force you to endure whatever it is that Mr. Freeman deals in. And you would only need to share the building with whores when they are very ill," he said frankly, though Riku could tell he was trying his best to sound accommodating.

Riku responded with a cool smile. "Is there anything else you would like my help with, Ansem?"

At his negative answer, Riku excused himself and left the doctor's quarters, heading back into the crowded and bustling street towards the Strife widow's house to bring her news about her nephew.

He did not notice the pair of eyes following his route suspiciously from a game of poker at a nearby saloon called Crimson Oblivion, and neither did he see them watch him leave half an hour later.

Riku had intended to speak with Sora as soon as he returned from his house call, but when he found the Heart's Desire packed and rather rowdy he decided to wait for Sora to close up so they could talk in private. He sat for a long while reading by the light of a candle, pouring over the Old Testament and Leviticus in particular, hoping to bring his body back under his own spiritual control and steer it away from baser desires.

Even while studying Riku's mind wandered to the commotion he could hear below and just down the hall in Kairi's rooms. In the short time he'd spent renting out his apartment, Riku had come to be incredibly in tune with Sora's movements and his schedule. It was fairly simple, really; Sora woke sometime late morning, opened up the bar, and usually by one or so in the morning he was ushering the drunkards out and locking the doors so he could collapse back in his own bed, dead to the world for a few hours. This schedule was repeated day in and day out until Riku understood the daily rhythms of Sora's life perhaps better than the brunet himself.

So when the grating noise of people shouting down in the area of the bar finally dissipated, but Sora's footsteps never graced the stairs even a long while later, Riku grew anxious. Had something happened, he wondered; he even considered that Sora might have fallen asleep in one of his own bar stools. He decided to investigate and see if Sora needed any help closing, and if it was the latter then he would put Sora in his normal bed.

The bar was dark and quiet when he descended the first set of steps, and at first glance it seemed as if the entire place was empty. All the stools were in their proper place, the floors appeared swept, but Sora was nowhere in sight. Riku was considering checking the brunet's room to see if he'd somehow missed the tell-tale stomp of his feet back to his room until a low moan caught his ear. Riku froze, wondering if his imagination had perpetuated the sound until it happened again – this time followed by a barely-muffled giggle. Then-

"You wanna go upstairs?" a rough, unfamiliar voice whispered in the darkness, barely loud enough for Riku to hear.

"Not tonight," a second voice, _Sora_, whispered in return; Riku felt his stomach drop somewhere around his ankles. "You should probably go."

"Still thinking about that preacher, aren't ya?" This, whispered with a hint of annoyance, was followed by a hiss; Riku swallowed dryly. "Why pine after a guy like that when you've got me, darlin'?" Sora must have responded in a voice only the other man could hear, because a moment later the second man chuckled. "We can pretend, then."

Over the whirring in his own brain, Riku could hear only vaguely muffled sounds of rustling clothing and groans, enough to paint an erotic picture of what was probably happening in the darkness, just beyond his sight. That was enough. He didn't want to hear this.

Riku began to back up on the steps slowly, carefully, so as not to give the couple any indication that he'd heard anything; it was painstaking, moving so gingerly when his heart was pounding and his mind was racing with impure thoughts. On the last step, Riku miscalculated the distance and kicked it. He winced, knowing it had certainly been loud enough to hear, but when it seemed that Sora and his . . . companion hadn't noticed his presence Riku simply bolted back to his room and quietly shut the door behind him.

That, Riku was ashamed of himself to admit, was the first time in a long while that he touched himself sexually and the first time period that he'd climaxed thinking about another man. When the sun rose beyond his window Riku was still whispering fervent prayers to the Virgin begging for forgiveness.

Xxx

Rather than attempt to catch up on the sleep lost to his tortured soul, Riku rose a short while after he heard Sora amble out of his room and down the stairs. For several long moments he hovered at the portal, weighing the different outcomes and considering how to go about talking to a young man who he now knew harbored lustful – shameful – feelings towards him. How could he possibly face Sora knowing he'd pleasured himself thinking about the other man, without showing his shame and disgust on his face?

In the end, Sora forced his hand; before Riku could even open the door there was a crisp knock that startled him, and when he opened it he was thoroughly surprised to see Sora – looking disheveled and tired – standing on the other side of the portal.

"Morning," Sora muttered neutrally.

"Uh," Riku started, schooling his expression away from panic. "Good morning."

"You don't look like you got any sleep," Sora commented, his tone still infuriatingly neutral.

Riku shook his head. "Didn't get much, no."

"Sorry," the brunet mumbled. "Listen, what did Mrs. Strife have to say? I didn't get to ask you yesterday."

"Oh," Riku blanched, searching his memory for that particular conversation. "She, ah, she wants him moved into her care. As soon as possible."

Sora huffed through his nose, twisting his mouth into a slight frown. "It could get tricky. I suppose we'll have to see if either of them come up with any bright ideas."

"It might be best for him," Riku agreed. "It's probably a lot safer than here, and then we're not involved in all this."

Sora shrugged. "We'll wait and see what happens. Listen . . . are you alright?" he asked quietly, and suddenly Riku realized he was being thoroughly scrutinized by deep blue eyes. "You don't look well."

Riku thought about lying to Sora. In fact, that had been his plan all along – to lie, and try to forget it ever happened. But with eyes so pure and blue as the sky piercing him body and soul, Riku's lips spilled the truth instead. "No. I'm really not."

Sora – bless him – acted immediately, barging into Riku's apartment and closing the door behind him; the brunet guided Riku over to his desk and sat him down in the chair, words tumbling rapidly from his mouth the whole time, so he could examine Riku's healing wound on his temple. "Is it the cut here? Your side? Tell me what's bothering you-"

Grabbing Sora's wrists to cease their movements, Riku succeeded in capturing the brunet's attention. "It's not any of those things," he murmured, sighing heavily.

"Then what?" Sora asked again, pushing and searching for an answer that would satisfy him.

"I," Riku started, swallowing when he felt his throat go dry. _Say it_. "I heard. I heard you and – last night," he said jerkily, his cheeks coloring brilliantly.

Sora, at the very least, had the decency to flush crimson and swear colorfully. "You weren't supposed to," he muttered, his usually bright voice sounding strained and choked.

"But I did. And I couldn't sleep afterwards, my mind would not stop thinking about you, and why, and what I was going to do because I can't deal with this," Riku groaned. "And my head is still killing me."

"Riku-"

"No no no, just stop. It's not supposed to be like this. It is a sin, an abomination, and I cannot stay here if that is what your true intentions towards me are. I cannot."

"It's not a sin, Ri-"

"Yes it is a fucking sin, Sora," Riku snarled, cutting him off and standing, causing Sora to take a step backward. "And I can't stay here if that is what you want from me."

To his displeasure Sora did not appear to be significantly cowed. "Then what is going to keep you here?"

Riku sucked in an unsteady breath, his gaze flickering up to meet Sora's. "I don't want to leave."

They stared at each other for a long moment, taking stock of the situation and digesting what each other was trying to say without asking outright, reading eyes and body language and disregarding words. Then, without any warning, Sora advanced; he closed the tense distance between them and pulled Riku down, his hands firm in Riku's cotton shirt as he branded the preacher's lips with his own. Sora pressed forward, encouraging Riku to engage in the kiss more actively despite the fact that he could feel the stiff tension in the other man's body quite easily. Riku himself had frozen the second he felt Sora's lips against his, his eyes widening almost comically as he stared, his body and his mind at odds for a reaction. When he didn't shy away, Sora slipped his hands around Riku's sides until his palms laid flat against his shoulder blades, and as he was pressing the kiss just a bit deeper he felt Riku fold.

Riku surrendered himself unto temptation in that moment, allowing himself this tiny bit of pleasure being offered so freely. It was wrong, so wrong, and he knew it deep in his bones but there was nothing to pull him away now. He curled his palms around Sora's thin biceps, tightening his grip and pulling him closer despite every ounce of logic condemning the act – but Sora was warm, and his hands were so comforting all he could think of doing was falling into his embrace and forsaking the life he'd known.

Sora pulled away first, breaking contact with Riku's lips and smiling knowingly; when Riku actually opened his eyes, he decided Sora looked a bit sly, like he'd been waiting to prove him wrong for ages and had finally accomplished his goal. Even his soft, pliant lips were curled into a smirk.

"See, was that so sinful?" Sora asked innocently.

Riku's expression fell abruptly, and all the warmth in his body turned cold. Was that all that was? Just to show him how wrong he was about everything? That was the last straw; he was tired of Sora playing him just to prove a point. "Get the hell out."

Confusion spread over Sora's face. "What the hell?"

In his growing rage, Riku reacted in a way that made him feel even greater shame; he pushed Sora away roughly and punched him in the jaw before the brunet could get a word in edgewise.

Sora reeled from the punch, landing sprawled on the floor with a hand touching his jaw gently, his expression one of absolute shock. Riku felt sick seeing that reaction and feeling the ache in his knuckles from the punch, but in his own confusion he could not bring himself to be a sympathetic party. "You disgust me. Get out," Riku snarled, and this time Sora shied away from him on the floor. "And the next time you want to fuck around with me just to prove a point I won't hold back."

To his credit, Sora collected himself and rose, glaring at Riku coldly. "I won't even give you the chance. I want you out," he declared. "Take your things, and get out. My generosity has run dry." Sora turned on his heel without another word and left Riku in the room to stew, studiously ignoring the tears that threatened to fall.

Riku was gone within the hour, leaving without a word to Sora or Kairi despite the ache in his chest as he walked through the door.

A heavy mood hung over Sora for the rest of the evening, enough that Kairi had learned her lesson after several tense and terse exchanges and was keeping to herself for the most part. The misery was written on Sora's face and in his body language, but with him refusing any and all comforting words or gestures, Kairi found it easiest to keep an eye on him from a distance and spare herself the sharpness of his tongue.

It was an oddly quiet night, but enough of the usual customers made their way in that Sora almost seemed to leave the afternoon's angst behind – if only for a bit. Sora worked through his frustrations best with more people to interact with and cajole to take his mind off of whatever was truly bothering him; today Kairi was silently, desperately thankful for the small crowd that forced its way into the Heart's Desire so Sora could take his frustrations out of some drunken miner rather than his friends.

Sora, for his part, was barely containing his simmering temper after his mildly violent altercation with Riku; it was taking all his self-control not to let his hands shake as he poured liquor and paid out bets throughout the night. The bruise on his cheek where Riku had punched him was sore and painful, a sharp contrast to the slight tingle left in his skin where, moments before the punch had been thrown, the preacher's long fingers had curved around his biceps tightly as they kissed. Maybe it was the brazenness of it all; of kissing this holier-than-thou man of fucking God until he felt the other man respond to his touch and felt his will slowly start to slip beneath his fingers. Then, lightning-quick, it was all over with a fist to the face and horrible words flung in retaliation for the act. It infuriated Sora that Riku could so easily deny what they clearly shared, that he had so easily transformed the kiss into something much more sinister. How could he accuse Sora of something like that?

The night wore on, and Sora shrugged off questions about the bruise on his cheek with practiced ease; the voices and noises around him were mere white noise, unable to drown out the enraged inner monologue that refused to cease in his head. Towards the early hours of the morning the Heart's Desire cleared, leaving only Sora and Tidus cleaning up behind the bar and Kairi sitting in the corner with a small glass of whiskey in her delicate hands.

Not long after Tidus went home, sleepily bidding them goodnight, Sora heard the doors creak open once again. He sighed heavily and schooled his face into a dark scowl, preparing to tell the bastards that the bar was closed for the night, and to fuck off for that matter.

He did not, however, expect to see several of the crime boss' key men standing in the bar impassively, with guns on their hips and knowing smiles on their faces. There were five of them, but Sora only recognized two: Axel and Luxord were the only two he had ever interacted with. A man with strange blue hair and horrific scars on his face was the closest to the bar, while another man with a scarred face and a taller man with huge muscles backed him up. Luxord was stroking his short blond goatee impassively off to the side, his eyes shifting constantly. Axel, of course, was standing closer to the rear of the group, watching the events unfold and getting ready to shoot up a storm in case trouble happened.

Which, Sora figured, might just be the case.

"What can I do for you guys?" Sora asked genially anyway, easily slipping into the comfortable game. The odds, he knew, were stacked against him.

"You can give us what we're looking for," the man with the blue hair and facial scars said icily. The tone of his voice indicated that there was no room for Sora to argue, and it sent a rush of fear down his spine.

"Oh?" Sora blinked, swallowing thickly as he recovered.

From her seat in the corner, Kairi stiffened. Her hand closed on her small pistol beneath the table.

"Your bluff has been called, my friend," Luxord chimed in calmly. "We know you are holding Roxas Strife here."

"You think I'm crazy enough to lie to you people?" Sora scoffed, hoping to cast doubt on their theories.

"I think you're just stupid enough to try," the blue-haired man snapped in return.

Sora's eyes narrowed slightly; his heart was pounding furiously in his chest, his palms sweating profusely against the bar as he clenched his fists unconsciously. This was bad. This was very, very bad.

"Are you that stupid?" the man continued, his voice softening but sharpening in its tone.

Sora's throat felt dry, and his mind was moving faster than ever before. The odds were stacked too high against him, even with Kairi's small gun on his side; he was very well aware of the murderous skills the men in the middle of the room most definitely possessed, and Sora was overly conscious of the fact that nearly every single one could probably outdraw and outshoot him. But with Roxas hidden away upstairs, still weak and recovering, Sora knew more than anything he had to _try_ to protect him. The odds didn't matter. The odds never mattered in the end, all that mattered was honor. Actions, not words, made the difference.

Lightning-fast reflexes grabbed for the pistol Sora kept behind the bar, drawing faster than he ever had in his life and cocking the gun, aiming right for the blue-haired man. His target didn't panic though – he simply rolled his eyes and barked Axel's name.

Kairi screamed.

_No_. Sora balked, his vision snapping to her and her very dangerous situation; Axel's long fingers were wrapped tightly around her neck, and one hand was holding a gun steadily to her temple. _No. No no no no._

"Kairi," Sora choked, his voice wavering in fear.

"Where is Roxas?" the blue-haired man demanded.

"Let her go," Sora whispered. "Just – just let her go. She's got nothing to do with this."

"You don't want Axel to hurt her? Put your gun down, Sora."

Sora did so without question, the metal hitting the hardwood bar in a controlled motion. "Please don't hurt her, Axel."

Axel frowned at him, and Sora saw Kairi's painted lip tremble. There was terror and doom in her bright blue eyes, and the sight of it made Sora feel sick.

"There's a good boy," the older man with the single facial scar enthused, the corners of his wide, cruel mouth perking up in a satisfied smirk. Sora shot him a withering glare, but to no effect. "Come out from behind the bar, kid. Hands above your head – get a move on, now, we haven't got all night."

Time slowed to an absolute crawl as Sora forced himself to move – right foot, left, right – until he was beyond the safety and protection of the bar. He swallowed thickly, keeping his gaze trained on Kairi as he stepped closer; as long as she was safe, as long as she was spared whatever came next, Sora didn't care. She didn't deserve to be caught up in this sort of depravity. Once he was standing right in front of the group, Sora took in a shaky breath and tried again. "Please, just let her go."

"That's up to you, now," the blue-haired man teased him, his expression utterly triumphant. "On your knees."

"What the – fuck no!"

In response to his protest Axel's grip on Kairi tightened, and the young woman let out a terrified whimper.

"If she's that important to you," the second man with the scar growled, "you'll get on your knees, kiddo. The little boys who act like heroes only end up getting their friends hurt."

Biting his lip as the futility in his situation became painstakingly clear Sora found his strength and slowly, carefully lowered himself down onto his knees. When he squeezed his eyes shut for a second, doing everything in his power to ignore the ache in his knees, a few unbidden tears escaped and travelled down his cheek. "Don't hurt her," he begged through gritted teeth.

"Go relieve this young man of his guest," the blue-haired man ordered, and Sora felt his heart sink even further towards the ground.

_I'm sorry, Roxas_, he thought morosely. _I'm sorry, I should have done more to protect you from these guys. _He looked over at Kairi, still held fast by Axel's fierce grip and the barrel of his gun, and felt like dying anyway.

Upstairs, there were violent shouts and protests, most notably from heavy pieces of furniture that was being knocked into as Roxas Strife fought two members of this insane gang by himself. When the huge, muscular man thundered down the staircase with a slip of unconscious blond over his shoulder, Sora imagined Roxas rampaging ferociously at him and his betrayal of Roxas' trust. The curses and tirades could still be heard, echoing on the walls, even after Roxas was dragged out of the bar and towards the waiting getaway horses.

"Finally," the blue-haired man sighed, rolling his eyes dramatically once again. "Kill him, Xigbar," he ordered again, tilting his head wards the tall redhead. "And Axel, leave the girl."

Several things happened almost simultaneously: Sora processed the words condemning him to death, and leapt to his feet; Axel barked a harshly-worded question at the blue-haired man in protest, while Kairi struggled valiantly against his grip and shouted Sora's name, her face red with exertion; Xigbar, the black-haired man with the scar across his eye and jaw, drew a Colt from beneath his coat and leveling it at Sora, pulled the trigger. A sound like a firecracker exploded in the bar as the small, narrow bullet rocketed from the Colt's chambers and pierced cloth and flesh before it stopped, lodged in Sora's abdomen.

Sora was confused, at first – mostly because pain was not the reaction he felt initially. Instead he was shocked – at the turn of events, at the pressure and intense piercing sensation that centered in his belly, to the right of his navel. Sora thought maybe he'd been punched or kicked in the abdomen by an incredibly strong horse or something, until the pain hit him with enormous brunt force and he choked on it, his body buckling and stumbling back against the bar with both hands covering the wound. His eyes blinked rapidly, unseeing as the horrible truth of what had just happened sunk in. He tried to shout angrily at them, but no words escaped his mouth no matter how much he tried.

There were screams – high and feminine, that was Kairi, he thought to himself in an almost absurd calm, and angry shouting – all men, maybe only one or two of them going at it. Then another gunshot rang out, and Sora hadn't realized how hazy the world around him was becoming, because suddenly Kairi was there with him, and the others were gone, and she was shaking his shoulders until he blinked and his vision cleared again.

"Kairi," he muttered, gasping at the surge of pain when she jostled him just a little too much. Sora blinked again and looked up at her, hoping to find something reassuring in her eyes.

She was crying. That was no good.

"We need to get you to the doctor," she was saying, her voice quaking under stress. "I'm going to go get someone to call him, alright? I'll be right back. Don't move." Kairi stumbled as she rose to her feet and shot straight for the door, screaming for help, and out of Sora's line of sight.

Darkness was creeping into the corners of Sora's vision, and even though he tried to blink it out it didn't help. He was so tired . . . and the pain was so intense, but it almost seemed to ease when Sora squeezed his eyes shut. Just a nap, he tried to mutter to the woman shaking his shoulders again. Tears were streaming down Kairi's cheeks now, and all Sora wanted to do was wipe the tears from her eyes – but he knew the wetness pooling in his hands was blood, and she wouldn't want that on her pale, painted face. He wanted to curl up in and sleep in the embrace of that infuriating preacher until the pain dissipated. That was all he needed – rest, and some comfort. It was a nice thought. There's no need to be scared, Sora thought sleepily, wanting to whisper that reassuringly to Kairi. He was just going to rest for a bit.

As Sora slipped into cool, comforting darkness, the last thing he saw was Kairi's blue, blue eyes as she shouted his name again.

TBC


End file.
